CHAPTER 61

There was a ripple in the ether.

It made the stars turn to look.

There, suspended in the void, a river flowing. One of many. Channels branching off, leading to seas and skies.

Yet the ripple comes from one small stream—a stream bridging two rivers together.

The ripple grows, intensifies, the stream splashes, and then…it dries up. Connection lost.

The stars look away.

For junctions and worlds come and they go. The ether ebbs and it flows.

There are so many rivers and connecting streams, one going dry hardly makes any difference.

After all, what are streams to stars?

And yet.

One star hovers high, high above. Far away from the others that mingle with the flowing realms. Because this one has gone dark. Cradled in the hands of the void, its fire blown out, it sits with dozens of the dark and doused.

But when all the stars have turned their attention back to basking in their brightness, this one begins to tremble.

The shake swells in the air, billowing down, down to those stars that burn. Reaching even the waters of the rivers, until the tremble breaks against their starshine surfaces.

The stars turn up their illuminated faces. Watching.

Waiting.

Until the core of the dark one flickers .

A single flame at first. Then, the fire catches. Burns. Casting off light and then growing. Bigger. Brighter.

Far bigger than the rest. Far more golden.

Fall , the others beckon, the voices of a thousand goddesses melded into the echo of one. Fall, and exist down here with us, amongst the rivers and the realms, where we burn and warm, watch and bestow. Where we rule over life and death, and see all.

But a filament floats from the golden star's surface. A cut root, pointing down toward those waters.

Reaching.

Fall , they say. You are now one of us.

But the gilded star feels that root, still growing from its core.

What if I do not want to fall?

The others go quiet.

The star burns hotter. Larger. Brighter. Not just a star, but a sun . With light that touches the streams.

It beckons again. What if I do not want to fall?

And this time, a voice answers. One familiar echo.

Then, little sun…don't.